It had been a while since Tahlia had allowed herself to get that drunk. All the time alone...all the uncertainty. And then, that face. That voice. She couldn't even fall on the old adage about of all the gin joints...because Fight Night was exactly where he should have been - exactly where they'd met. Tex had started the cracks in her armor, and she'd broken his heart to save him, expecting she'd never see him again. So of course the universe picked now to remind her. What she needed - was Simon. What she had - was scotch.

Sending Stitch on his way after he saw her home, the feisty little blonde hadn't even bothered changing...just grabbed both bottles of scotch, and a glass, and made her way out to the patio. She'd never been a fan of fire, but now it reminded her of him. The night he'd saved her at the motel...and then the warehouse. His warehouse, now a charred shell. And here she was in her palatial penthouse, all alone. She was alone a great deal - something she had never really gotten used to. But right now...it was what she wanted.

That wasn't exactly truth. What she wanted was off somewhere in the wilds outside the city, finding himself. Without her. She knew why - knew he cringed at the thought of her...doing what she'd always done. Being what she'd always been. But for the first time in...ever...she was going through the motions. Mr. Right Now had always been good enough, because there wasn't ever going to be a Mr. Right. She didn't believe in such things. Not for her. Not ever.

But then she'd met Simon. One night had turned to two, then more...until they'd become each other's first choice. She'd fought it, kept playing her games - picking up random partners as if to prove a point. But none of them was what she wanted, and she found herself fighting to remember the rules. No attachments, no strings...not her, not them. It wasn't who they were. Until it was. But they still hadn't talked about it.

She was still upset with him for abandoning her - using that word and then going off to die. She'd almost lost him, and she shuddered to think what she might have done as a result. Losing her mother had scarred her for centuries, but she hadn't been strong enough to do anything about it. Losing him...would have killed her inside...But he'd survived, and she'd gone to Westport with Eddie and the rest of the team, to do the job she'd agreed to do. Only while she'd been there, doing her best to find a balance...Simon had taken off for parts unknown. Now there were calls, messages...pictures. But not him. And she had no idea how long he would be gone.

Just drunk enough, she picked up the phone, and hit a single button. It was late...well after midnight...and she didn't really expect him to answer. "Hey, killer...it's me. I just...I miss you. I might be a little tipsy. But that's not why. It's been a rough night. Ran into Tex - and it, it just made me realize how much I never thought I'd find this." Tears leaked beneath her lashes, and strained her voice. "I'm going to talk to Jerry about getting my old job back, maybe find someplace to dance...I love you. I don't...I don't know a lot right now, but I know that. I know you need time, and I'm trying to be patient. I just want you to remember what?s waiting for you here."

October 13, 2017

It had seemed like a lifetime since that fiery night when everything changed. Every bit of trouble, every bruise, and fresh scar had led him here. Home. The cool of autumn had finally begun to set in. Simon tugged his overcoat a little more snug about his slim form, the cab pulling off behind him.

The club was the high-end of mid-range - no obvious drugs, and if you asked, the girls didn't do extras. Not there, anyway. Most might slip you a card with a finger to their lips. The new one, though...she'd wink, and flirt, but so far, halfway through her first shift, no-one had gotten more than that. She looked like she might be too good for the place, but talent like that filled seats, and the slick satyr who ran the place watched her spin and gyrate with a satisfied smirk.

Those battered old boots sent a splash and ripples through a puddle in the middle of the street as he made his way to the club, the pulsing beat audible, though muffled. Simon stuffed his hands in his pockets as he made his way in through the door. It had been a while since he'd set foot in a place like this...it was almost a system shock. The smells and sounds and...sights assaulted his senses. Blue eyes swept over the crowd, landing on the blonde upon the stage. Suddenly, something in his stomach hurt. It felt like he might drown, really. Simon slipped off his coat and handed it over to a coat check girl who approached him. He crossed those muscular, tatted up arms in front of him, leaning his shoulder against a column. A little grin crossed his lips watching her, that look in his eye unmistakable.

Everything beyond the stage was dark, and besides, she was strutting away from the pole, hips snapping, fabric slithering along her skin as she dropped the dress, revealing curves for days, adorned with high-cut black leather boyshorts, and a matching halter top that barely held in a set of breasts that seemed designed to make men weep. A toss of her head, and she spun, cartwheeling back along the catwalk, coming up with a snagged shot in her hand that was down her throat and tossed aside in the time it took for her to gain the pole, and spin up and around, body bent into an arabesque.

A little laugh escaped him as he watched her take the shot. She was blissfully unaware of his presence, and for some reason that made her even more beautiful. The neon flashes would light him momentarily as he leaned, watching the show she so...exuberantly put on. When he'd gotten to her place, she was gone. For a moment, a panic set in that almost had him convinced she'd put on some overly elaborate ruse and took off on him. Stupid, unrealistic fears.

Heels hit the stage, followed by her knees, her body flowing off the pole and stretching back, artfully plucking a folded bill from some panting patron. Without using her hands, she straightened, golden blonde hair flying as she tossed her head from side to side, body rocking and snaking to the pounding beat. Pausing to catch a breath, she just caught a figure leaning in the shadows...something about the cross of the arms...gliding forward to stalk on hands and knees, the rest of the crowd faded as one patron drew all her attention. She'd told Simon where she was working, of course she had...but he was miles away still. Just her imagination, wishing he was there. The flash of light crossed his face, and there was no denying whose eyes were taking her in. That stubbled jaw, the cocky little smirk on his lips. He knew she saw him. Could see it in those big eyes of her's. Sorry, folks. Show's about to come to an abrupt end.

She froze. Blinked. Shook her head and looked again. It didn't take long, but it felt like time just stopped. "...Simon..." Barely a whisper, certainly not loud enough to be heard above the music. It didn't matter. The only person who needed to know, did. She was off the stage before anyone could really register the movement, moving smoothly through the crowd with only one goal in mind. The closer she got, the bigger she smiled, and the slower the managers cigar shifted. Even as the murmur started - the crowd grumbling, the satyr rousing himself from the bar, she launched herself into those muscular arms, wrapping tighter around him than she had around the pole.

He stumbled back, clutching her tightly, but he didn't fall. Every second of waiting, every struggle over the past...damn, had it really been near two months" It didn't seem possible. He put that behind him and enjoyed the proximity again, the scent of her, the clutch of her arms and legs around him and the softness of her body pressed so tight they almost felt as one.

The scent of him, subtly different but still him filled her lungs, and her breath rushed out, eager to replace the smells of the club with his. The heat of his arms around her, the hard press of his chest against hers. "It's really you...it's really really..." Her voice broke with a sob, and the prick of tears stung her lashes. She'd been trying so hard to believe...clinging to messages and pictures from over the miles. "You came back..." The awe spoke volumes...she'd been terrified he wouldn't.

His voice was low, only loud enough for her. "I told you I would." He smiled. running his hand through her hair. He turned his head and pressed his lips to her cheek, not wanting to break that embrace even for a passionate liplock. He just wanted that woman close to him, tight against him. His entirely as much as he was her's entirely.

Sniffing, she burned a kiss into the curve of his jaw, some awful knot of fear and tension releasing as his fingers stroked through her hair. "****. I missed you more than air." Not letting go, not more than the slightest straightening of her arms so she could fill her eyes with the sight of him, smile bright enough to rival the spotlights on the empty stage, she was utterly oblivious to the rotundly rocking approach of the owner. Cigar out and gesturing, he waved a hand at the still quietly protesting crowd. A girl was being prepared, dead air meant empty coffers...but he was clearly gearing up to deal with his newest hire.

"I've been trying so hard to get back to you." he told her, looking her in the eye. "Now that I'm here...it feels like I'm gonna wake up somewhere else and have this all be a dream..."

"If you're dreaming we both are. And I don't want to wake up..." She brought her lips to his just as the cigar pointed in their direction, and a bray came from somewhere around hip height. "Hey! Girly! There's no touching the patrons, and ya best get that too-dressed ass'a yers back on stage, or yer outta a job!"

His lips only just touched her's when he heard the voice, his gaze OH so slowly turning toward the man. A VERY unamused look upon his face. The kind of look that just said "Dude...wrong time." He turned back to her. "We need to leave before I bury that cigar in his throat..."

She didn't even bother turning around, just uncurled one arm and sent it backwards, a single finger held toward the ceiling. "He's not a patron, and I don't belong to you." Jade green eyes sparkled, never leaving Simon's face. "I'm his. Take me home, killer" Please?" The satyr just stammered. The man holding his newest prize dancer didn't look like the type prone to exaggerate...and the little blonde just...well there was just no arguing with that. Not for him anyway. Tahlia's arm returned to it's rightful place over his shoulders as her former boss slunk away.

He smiled and pressed his lips to hers, taking her in with a deep inhale, desperate for her. Those fingers dove through her hair, letting that kiss linger long and hungry. Finally, his lips left hers and he stared into those big, round eyes. "Thought you'd never ask."

Gasping, she licked her lips and grinned at the taste of him. "Triumph's outside...I'll navigate if you drive." There was a delightfully wicked smirk just visible before she went in for another. Her lips had been too far from his for too long, and she craved him, needed him the way an addict needed a fix.

December 4, 2017

It wasn't an impulse. It took time to find someone who could do what she needed, and wasn't going to blab about it after. Even then she took precautions. A taxi dropped her off a block away, and she'd made certain to keep the hood of her sweatshirt up to hide her face. This area of Dockside wasn't so bad, not now, before the sun had set. A few minor changes, and it was a brunette with rich brown eyes who stepped into the shop, and pushed the hood back from her face, and then stuffed her hands back in her pockets. Shoulders rolled forward, heels clicking against cracked linoleum, she peered into the darkness, looking for someone. Anyone. Word on the street was that the owner would do anything, and didn't ask questions. "Hey - m"lookin for Argus" Somebody told me he could do some work?"

What she'd thought was a shadow"moved. The light hit lines of silver and gold against skin the color of midnight that rippled as the giant moved closer. "What kind of work...princess?" White teeth capped with the same metals shone as he leered down at her - he wasn't quite as tall as Eune, or Eddie...but he was wider, thicker, and filled the space with his presence. Tahlia took a deep breath, and tugged a folded sheet of paper from her pocket. "Two things. I need this -" a small, silver seal spilled into her palm "as a navel piercing"and this...as a brand." She held out the paper without a trace of trembling. There was a single oak leaf sketched there, about the size of her palm. The lines were delicate, but clear.

Argus simply nodded, and pointed toward the back room. He made his business on the things no-one else could do, or would. This...was relatively tame. "Piercing first. You want something for the pain, princess" That brand is gonna hurt." The now-brunette simply shrugged as she moved past. "It won't work. I have my music." The sweatshirt stripped off first, tossed over a chair to be followed by a smoke grey sweater, revealing a black lace bra. The princess certainly wasn't shy. Argus thought she looked vaguely familiar, but he hadn't gotten where he was asking questions. Black ripped jeans sat low enough to give him plenty of room, although he considered trying to talk her out of those, too. Something told him it wouldn't work.

Wordlessly, she settled herself in the chair, slid a set of earbuds into place, and closed her eyes. Machine gun beat aside, her breathing slowed, lips barely moving, silently syncing with the lyrics as the ink-dark man loomed over her. She didn't so much as flinch as he swabbed the area, and set the clamps. Glancing up, Argus took a moment to try and figure out what she was listening to before turning his attention back to the work at hand. The needle slide into her skin, with just the slightest hitch to her even breathing, and he clipped the seal into place. The girl was a trooper, and there was hardly a drop of blood. Tapping her on the ribs to get her attention, he held up the sketch, and gestured to the back - he needed to copy it onto transfer paper. She blinked, and nodded, running a hand over the new bauble at her navel. Argus rose, and left - brands weren't his favorite, for all he sported his own, and it seemed a shame to scar such perfect skin, but in his experience...well, the scars were the point. An external reminder of something too deep to deal with day to day.

It took barely a minute for him to return, not that she seemed to notice, or reacted as he lay the sheet along her ribs, following the sweep of bone beneath skin and muscle. The same staccato sounds barely carried, she had to have the thing on repeat. Idly, Argus wondered the significance as he peeled the page back, and kicked on the cauterizing gun.

Tahlia let out a hiss of breath as she felt the first touch of burning metal. She'd gotten used to pain, had to, when nothing really worked to take it away except for the potions and salves Louis came up with. She'd have to find a new healer, somewhere. Digging her nails into the padding beneath her, she dragged air into her lungs, and squeezed her eyes shut - thankfully the thing was quiet, so she could still hear the song.

"The only reason that I'm here Is to wreak havoc Everybody prayin' that I'll change, yeah Maybe one day but tomorrow I'll be back at it 'Cause bad habits they die hard We live fast we die hard"

For the first time in days, she let herself think about Simon. Pain bloomed, and blended, mixing with the searing, sharp sensation along her side and the smell of burnt flesh, a bit like slightly overcooked ham still in the oven, except this wasn't a restaurant, and the scent was far too close. She'd been...so wrong, believing that something as fickle as love would keep her safe. That he'd be able to accept her as she was. She'd gotten played and that hurt worse than the lines blooming under Argus" hands. But that was why she was here. Keeping her breathing slow and even, although her muscles were starting to twitch and jump from the pain, she reached deep, and tugged at the festering knot at the center of everything. He'd never trusted her, pushed her away when it mattered most...never loved her. She'd been too good a piece of *** to drop, until she'd started to slip. She'd showed him her weaknesses, told him things she'd not shared with anyone outside her family - she'd thought he'd done the same. His daughter, and the soul-deep ache of losing her. But it hadn't meant anything, in the end. He hadn't even had the balls to tell her he was leaving to her face. Just - gone. Leaving that picture of her and Eddie leaving the Inn, and a mocking note saying he hoped he was "enough", whatever that meant. And yet. She still loved him. And that - that pain eclipsed anything her body could come up with.

"And if love is real Maybe I'm just too bad To remember how good it feels My heart is still"

Argus straightened, one invisibly dark brow quirked as he looked down at his handiwork. It was delicate and direly beautiful. Fitting, given the woman stretched out in front of him. Brown eyes blinked up at him as he carefully coated the wound with salve, and placed gauze over it. There was something there, haunted...wounded...and gone in a blink. She rose without a word, listening to the aftercare instructions in silence, reclaiming her sweater, and sweatshirt. A ghost of a smile as she handed him an envelope filled with used bills, and she was gone, disappearing into the deepening twilight.

?'Cause bad habits they die hard We live fast we die hard Go against me you'll die hard Die hard"